


honeycomb

by spells



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Parents, BokuAka Week, BokuAka Week 2020, Domestic, Established Relationship, Future, Future Fic, M/M, Married Couple, Married Life, Parenthood, Slice of Life, domestic???, they're married! they're dads!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:00:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25667080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spells/pseuds/spells
Summary: Family friends, uncles and aunts, used to tell him that having kids sometimes changed their lives to something worse, more stressful, more tiring. Koutarou couldn’t even imagine what that must be like. All Koutarou could see was Keiji’s joy growing exponentially with Umeko’s age, and his own happiness at an even faster rate.or, snapshots into Koutarou and Keiji's married life, and what it's like to have a toddler.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 17
Kudos: 123
Collections: Bokuaka Week 2020





	honeycomb

**Author's Note:**

> gigantic thanks to cait for literally giving me all the ideas for this fic, and to lala and ponpon for the help with the Who Takes Whose Name discourse. enjoy!

Umeko's fingers were like chubby little claws, holding onto Koutarou's hand like she couldn't imagine any other option. He looked down at her, barely half his height, and knelt to get closer to eye level.

“What’s up?” He frowned, poking her dimples with his index finger. She pouted, rubbing her eyes with her knuckles.

“Tired o’ walking, papa.”

“You’re spoiled,” Koutarou said, but picked her up anyway. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave a little kiss to his collarbone; Koutarou smiled and rolled his eyes, because how could he resist her? (If Keiji were here, he’d give Koutarou one of those stern looks, one of those you-shouldn’t-do-that, we’re-not-raising-her-like-this looks. If Keiji were here, Koutarou would give him one of those pleading looks, begging looks, one of those she’s-only-three, what-do-you-want-me-to-do looks. If Keiji were here, Koutarou would lean in close, and whisper something about how he couldn’t say shit, he pampered Koutarou all the time. If Keiji were here, he’d go red, and push him away, smiling.)

They kept going from booth to booth, from exotic fruits to leafy greens, to grains and legumes. Vendors liked giving Umeko little bites of fruit to taste, and she tried them all, judging which ones they’d buy and which ones they wouldn’t. Their tote bag filled up little by little, finger-painted by Umeko with a small, smiling cow and “farm mark” - because farmers’ market wouldn’t fit, so she declared it to now be called that, because shorter is sweeter, right! She had pointed to herself, smiling, and repeated, shorter is sweeter! (She didn’t know what that meant, actually. Koutarou had just said that about the finished piece, grinning at Keiji, and she repeated it. When she pointed to herself, though? Probably one of her first jokes. Koutarou almost cried. Keiji snickered, and patted Koutarou’s back.)

At home, she took the bag from him and ran to the kitchen, screaming, “Daddy, come see what we got!”

“I’ll be right out, Umeko,” Keiji yelled from his office, and Koutarou followed the sound of his voice. He opened the door, quietly, and peeked through the gap. Keiji took a second to turn around and look at him. He kept typing away, the laptop screen being the main source of light in the room with the blinds half-drawn, and sighed when he finished the sentence. He turned around again, “Welcome back, love.”

“Mhm,” Koutarou smiled, walking inside the room and bending down to kiss him. “Got anything done?”

“Ah, you know how it is.” Keiji reached up and took off his glasses, eyes a little red from lack of sleep and not blinking enough. Koutarou frowned, pouted.

“Stop pushing yourself too hard. You’ll break.”

“I’m fine-”

“Nope,” Koutarou kissed him, an interruption. He felt Keiji smile, and kissed him again. “We left lies a long time ago. Now, go help your daughter put away the groceries. Go, go, I’ll switch off the computer. No more working for the day.”

“Mm,” Keiji hummed, agreed, but didn’t stand up. He reached for another kiss, pulled Koutarou closer, traced a thumb against his cheekbone even with eyes closed.

“Dad?” Umeko’s voice was faint, even if a yell, but it was enough to make Koutarou laugh and break the kiss.

“C’mon, Keiji,” Koutarou helped him up, and kissed him again. “You remember what she did to the pears last time.”

“Oh God,” Keiji laughed, and wrapped his arm around Koutarou’s waist as they walked out of the room. 

Keiji got home at nine on a terribly warm, terribly bright summer evening. Keiji got home at nine, his tie already loosened around his neck, his briefcase slipping down his fingers with sweat and sheer exhaustion. Keiji got home at nine, and the sofas in the living room were pushed to the wall, the coffee table in the middle of the hallway, the rug rolled up and left next to the shoe rack.

“Kou?” He yelled, whisper-yelled, tone of voice changing mid-sentence because he noticed it was deep into the night, and Umeko was hopefully asleep. He dropped his briefcase and walked out of his shoes, frowning as he slowly, quietly made his way into the apartment.

“Be right there!” Koutarou walked out of Umeko’s room and closed the door with all the care in the world, emitting no sound but the softest click of the knob when it closed for good. “What’s up?”

Keiji stood in front of the massive piece of paper in the living room, stuck to the floor with dinosaur washi tape - part of a collection, and a birthday gift from Tsukishima, who was actually enthusiastic to find out about Umeko’s love of dinosaurs - and rolled out nearly to every corner of the room. It was all filled up, with finger paintings and tiny permanent marker doodles, drawing materials spread out on top of it, paint pots without lids and cracked-in-half crayons. He could read words here and there, too, either in Koutarou’s messy handwriting or in weak lines that were definitely made by Koutarou holding Umeko’s hand and guiding her; sweet words, like world or love or stars, but also puns and little quotes, something about pineapples that reminded Keiji of the trip they took when he graduated university, a little drawing of a plum next to the words  _ shorter is sweeter! _

Bigger than anything, though, there’s a huge drawing of three people, and Keiji knew it was the three of them. Koutarou drawn as a giant, which made him laugh, Keiji holding Umeko’s hand and her as a tiny, smiling little girl. Keiji might’ve teared up.

Koutarou rested his hand on the small of Keiji’s back, and kissed his temple. “Do you like it?”

“Oh, Kou,” Keiji turned, laid his forehead on Koutarou’s shoulder. He didn’t know if he was crying, didn’t know if it was out of joy or exhaustion. He could have melted into Koutarou’s arms, right there. God, he was so warm. Always had been. He lifted his head, looked back up at his face. “How did you think of this?”

“Well,” Koutarou grinned, and Keiji felt his heart squeezing. Even now, after all these years. “We both know Umeko’s the next Picasso, yeah? And she’s always drawing outside the pages, into the table, mhm?” Keiji nodded. He wasn’t paying all that much attention. He liked the glint in Koutarou’s eyes, slightly crazy, entirely passionate, when he felt like doing something and just did it, out of instinct, out of need. “Why not give her as big a canvas as can fit in here, y’know?”

“God,” Keiji sighed. “I wish I’d come home sooner. Helped you guys. She must’ve been so happy.”

“Well,” Koutarou paused, and held Keiji a little tighter, brought him a little closer. Keiji let him. “She was excited to make it a surprise gift for you. So was I.”

“God,” he said again. All day, he had been drowning in words, editing and revising and writing, receiving and sending away emails, talking to his employees and his assistant. All day- every day, all he did was think of words and expressions and what works and what sounds good. Now, he didn’t think there was a single word good enough for all the warmth in his chest, the almost unsettling, overpowering ease that climbed onto his shoulders and soothed him all at once. “I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

With his free hand, the other wrapped too tight around Keiji’s waist, Koutarou intertwined their fingers. Keiji felt his breath ruffling his hair, and felt his smile against his scalp. “I know.”

“Papa?”

“Yep?”

“Why are there no dinos on here?”

Koutarou stopped walking, looked down at his daughter. “Where?”

She shoved a Sanrio sticker sheet in his face, all pink and white, the characters doing cute poses and little faces, Hello Kitty and Keroppi, My Melody and Kuromi. Koutarou realised he knew all of their names. He didn’t know how to process that information.

“Well, honey, I just think dinos aren’t cute enough,” he said, handing her back the sticker sheet. He knew he’d done something wrong, though, as soon as he saw the look of betrayal on her small, peachy pink face. His eyes went wide, and before he knew it, Umeko was tearing up.

“Pap- you- you don’t-” She sniffed, sobbed, and Koutarou fell to his knees, wiping her cheeks with his thumbs. “Don’t- think dinos- are cute?”

“No, no, I never said that, sweetheart!” Koutarou shushed her, kissed her forehead, put his hands on her elbows and pulled her closer until she was hugging him. She’d never been a big, loud crier, never been one to throw tantrums. She cried sobbing, weeping, and not crying out loud. “I said- I mean, I was wrong. Yeah? Papa was wrong?”

“You’re wrong,” Umeko agreed, furrowing her brow and pouting. Koutarou breathed again, relief helping him relax every one of his muscles. “Dinos are cuter than frogs. We should make them forget Keroppi.”

“Yeah? We’ll send Sanrio a very angry letter, and they’ll change Keroppi into a dino. Wanna do that?”

Umeko nodded, face still angry, arms crossed over her chest, but now Koutarou knew it was at Sanrio, not at him. He smiled, picked her up; instantly, she wrapped her arms around his neck, nevermind being angry.

In the car, later, strapped into her car seat, Umeko said, “Maybe we can make them add Teru to the characters.”

(Teru was Umeko’s plush pterodactyl, purple and not at all cute. Koutarou thought pterodactyls were the absolute worst being that could’ve been made into a plushie. At least, he knew enough not to tell Umeko that.)

Keiji frowned, looked away from the road for a second, and Koutarou winked at him. “Great idea, honey.” Keiji raised an eyebrow, shifting his gaze between his husband and the cars. Eventually, he snorted and shook his head, amused, and Koutarou stretched out an arm to hold his hand, even if for just a second.

Snacks for their First Annual Bokuto Household Family Picnic went into the preparation phase on a Saturday afternoon. Koutarou was tasked with slicing and dicing any ingredient for any of the recipes, Keiji with making dough or batter for any type of cookie, pie or cake, and Umeko with things like sandwich fillings and, later on, decoration. Stage zero of the picnic had started, actually, even earlier on, when they went to the supermarket to buy any and all ingredients necessary for - and quoting Koutarou - the first of a series of legendary family events.

Each recipe had a different cooking, or assembling, time. Umeko was done with the sandwiches before any of the baked goods were out of the oven, and so Keiji took her outside for the next chapter of learning how to ride a bike. Koutarou stayed inside and finished chopping up things, cleaning up anything they were already done with, and putting finished sandwiches and bakery sweets in the fridge.

On Sunday morning, Koutarou drove them out to a park he used to go to with his parents when he was a kid. He knew just the hill, the slightly-secluded area, the perfect spot of tree-shadow and sunlight. He walked a few steps ahead of Keiji and Umeko, carrying the basket and the cooler with the drinks, navigating through a park that had grown a little unfamiliar to him after the years. Sure enough though, eventually, he did find the hill, saw the flowering dogwood tree, felt like a kid again.

They ate, and talked, and laughed. Umeko kept scribbling in the margins of her colouring book, and after a while Keiji gave up on trying to talk her into colouring the pictures instead of drawing new ones. Keiji put on his sunglasses and laid on the grass, half his body on top of the blanket and his legs off of it, his head resting in Koutarou’s lap. Koutarou played with his hair and smiled, all morning, watching birds and squirrels, watching families from afar, watching dogs with frisbees and kids with balls.

At one point, Umeko stopped doodling and joined her dad in sunbathing, lying on her stomach with her head on the blanket and her socks on. She fell asleep like that, and neither of her dads had it in them to wake her up; Koutarou picked her up softly and brought her closer to the tree, underneath its shadow, and Keiji sat up to watch her sleep.

“This was a really good idea,” he said, quietly, his head tilted and his eyes bright, the sunglasses supported on top of his head.

“Mm, told you so,” Koutarou smiled, and poked his side. Keiji laughed, and pushed him back, playful, happy. Family friends, uncles and aunts, used to tell him that having kids sometimes changed their lives to something worse, more stressful, more tiring. Koutarou couldn’t even imagine what that must be like. All Koutarou could see was Keiji’s joy growing exponentially with Umeko’s age, and his own happiness at an even faster rate.

Keiji reached for a kiss, and Koutarou felt the familiarity in his lips. Koutarou knew their shape, their size, their warmth, better than he knew anything else. He knew his every curve, every dip and every bump, every scar and every mole, everything about Keiji, his high school sweetheart, his soulmate. He knew how to make him laugh when they were drunk at one in the morning, knew how to make him sigh with delight under the sheets, knew how to stop his tears and cheer him back up.

He laid back on the blanket, and Keiji laid by his side. Keiji kissed the spot between his collarbones, kissed the curve of his jaw. Koutarou thought about the first time he’d kissed Keiji’s lips, the first time he’d thought about them, and hid his face with embarrassment. Who’d have thought he’d get this far?

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! kudos, comments or bookmarks (and messages or tweets on twitter @kenhinabot) make me touch the clouds with joy, so, it is now up to you


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